Call of Destiny
by enchantress of dreams
Summary: Will two childhood friends destinies entwine or will fate push them apart.
1. Prologue

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the labyrinth or any characters from it. This story came from the idea of a story i read about 16 years ago. It is out of print now and i hope you enjoy it with this little twist.**_

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_From across the lands and the seas,_

_Though awake or in a dream._

_She answered the call,_

_The call of destiny._

"_I come to you my love,_

_But—are you what you seem?_

_Are you flesh and blood, heart and soul,_

_Or only a distant dream?"_

**Call of Destiny**

_**(Prologue)**_

_Goblin Kingdom, Underground, 8420_

"Oh, look, just look! You broke my favorite doll, you beast! She's all hurted, an' it's your fault. I hate you, Jare!"

Tears steamed down the little half elfin, half human girl's face as she picked up her beloved baby and cradled it to her bosom. The porcelain face that she was certain even cleaver Verma could not mend. Oh, poor, poor Fara! She'd been her favorite baby, for she'd come from the Elvin Kingdom across the forgotten desert and through the labyrinth to the Goblin Kingdom. Her mother, whom she had never seen, left it to her before she passed away aboveground. And now poor Fara's cheek was broked…

The boy, far more her senior, eyed her scornfully, his fists planted arrogantly on his hips.

"Pah!" He dismissed her grief with all the airy superiority of a soon to be young fae coming into adulthood. "You are but an infant and part human at that! What did you expect? There can be no war without casualties, foolish girl! Your stupid human doll—Fara is a hero, wounded by the rebellious Karin El-Aistrian while defending the life of the great Goblin King, Jareth! She will receive honor and rewards for her courage. Perhaps I will give her fifty—no, a hundred!—goblin and many of the finest horses in all the underground!" he boasted. "Here give that stupid doll to me!"

"No! You hurt her, Jare!" Ann accused, using the name she'd given the fae boy when they'd first met. She hadn't been able to pronounce his name properly then,'cos she'd still been just a baby, and so it had been "Jare" ever since. "Fara doesn't like you no more. An'she don't want no horr'ble goblins. She just wants a new—a new—f-face, so's she'll be-be p-pretty 'gain!"

Great hiccupping sobs sounded from behind the doll pressed close to her damp face, and the boy felt, for the first time, an uncomfortable pang of guilt to see his little friend so upset. It had been an accident, true, but the doll's sorry state had been his fault nonetheless. While acting out the part of his treacherous uncle, Karin El-Aistrian, he had dealt his porcelain "attacker" a mighty blow with one of his magic crystals…

"When my father is King of the Underground, he will send you a thousand such toys," he promised stiffly, hoping she'd dry her eyes. "And each one will be far grander than your ugly old Fara."

"Don't want t'ousand dollies," the little girl sniffed, rubbing her teary eyes on her doll's petticoats. "Want Fara's f-face pretty 'gain."

The boy looked cross. He was the son of the Goblin King, Garrin El-Aistria, and as heir to his father's province in the underground, accustomed to getting his own way. He scowled at her, his handsome mismatched blue and green eyes sulky beneath their fringing of dark lashes. His head was capped with unruly, long, platinum blonde hair. His fair skin, the heritage of his fae background, was just showing the suggestion of coming into adulthood. He impatiently tapped the ground with his booted foot.

"Oh for the love of…I do not know why I bother with you, unless it is to learn Elfish! It cannot be that I find your company pleasing, for you are such a crybaby!" he said scornfully, and added a string of insults in his native Goblin for good measure.

"And you're just a b-big b-bully, Jare!" she retorted.

"Bully? Hold your tongue! You will not speak to me in that way, girl!" he said arrogantly, for he was often his most arrogant when feeling most guilty! Besides, although fae women were allowed certain freedoms rare to other women in the underground, retaliating hotly with a show of temper and the calling of names when a man had spoken was not tolerated! "I had thought to take you for a venture through the labyrinth on Ashtar, but now I won't," he said punishingly. "You can stay here with the others and wait for your father to come. I hope he brings good news from the council or you might have to leave!" He rolled his mismatched eyes in a look that spoke volumes.

"Don't care!" Sarah Ann El-Fanil defied him, pouting. It was a lie, for she loved horses with a passion and a ride on Jare's glossy, spirited black colt was a rare treat indeed. "Don't want to ride your stupid ole horse anyway! It's ugly n' nasty—just like you! Go away you mean boy. I hate you!"

Tight-lipped at her cutting remarks about his beloved black colt, Jareth nodded. "Yes. It is only fitting you should stay home! My beautiful Ashtar would not wish to have such a baby as you ride him with me, for then we would have to go slowly—as befits a horse who carries a little girl. Alone, Ashtar will fly like the wind.

He spun on his heel and began to stride quickly away across the courtyard, past the splashing fountains and the flower garden towards the stables of the great Goblin Castle.

Little Ann, as she was know, trotted after him, half-tempted to beg his forgiveness, for she would have liked to ride the colt with him and it was worth telling a lie to do so. Ashtar liked her. He always nuzzled her cheek and then her pockets with his velvety nose and mouth, in search of sugar cubes she gave him! Still, her fierce little temper had not abated, nor her pride, which had been wounded by Jare's name-calling and glancing down at the doll's caved-in porcelain cheek, was a powerful reminder that the horrid boy was everything she'd said he was. Poor Fara was ugly now. She'd never, never ever by pretty again, an' it was all his fault. As she looked at the ruined doll cradled in her little arms, tears filled her dark brown eyes anew. With a burst of renewed fury, she picked up a small, withered peach that had fallen prematurely from the towering peach tree way above the stables, and hurled it after Jareth, pleased when it struck him squarely between the shoulder-blades just as he was about to enter the stables.

"Oww!" he cried, and spun to face her. "That hurt!"

"Good for you!" You're not my friend no more!" she crowed, and crossed her eyes and stuck out her small pink tongue as far as she could in a horrible grimace. "You—you goblin!" It was something he'd taught her himself to call people when he was upset with them.

"Pah! Go back to your nurse, Dark one!" he taunted back, knowing how she loathed him teasing her about her hair-coloring, which was rare to a fae. Most fae or elfin in the underground were light-headed and fair, but her hair was dark brownish auburn almost black that he secretly found fascinating and almost beautiful, though he'd never admit that to her. With his parting shot, he left.

Ann sighed. Her anger had vanished, replaced by the keen awareness that she'd have to spend the entire day—and possibly tomorrow too—alone, until Jare's temper cooled. And there was nothing much to do without Jareth to play with. She wandered when her father would be coming back from the important council meeting that he had departed on a few month's ago.

Of a sudden, Ann was afraid. All of Uncle Garrin's serving women were not trying to cheer her up with words of encouragement that her father would come back to the Goblin Castle. Ann had sensed that something was very wrong by the way everyone was behaving….

Still, she thought, brightening at the recollection, father said before he left that very soon they would be returning to their Kingdom and she would be getting a new mother and sister's to play with, and that was something to look forward to, she supposed. She sighed again. She did hope her father would return soon with more good news from the council.

"Well, whenever father returns, I will be happy and won't care what Jare does, right Fara, my dear?" she whispered to the doll, and skipped off to find her nurse, Verma.

"You have been a very true friend to me, Gareck El-Fanil. I will not forget all you have done for me and my sons these past few years." the Goblin King's voice thick with emotion.

"It was my pleasure, Garrin. You and those of your Kingdom have been gracious to me and my daughter, but the war is starting to get out of hand and the council has told me what I am to do now. I just hope that my daughter will understand for I don't. I will miss her and your graciousness to us old chap." The elfin's voice cracked, and he turned where he sat cross-legged upon a pile of cushions to busy himself pouring another tiny cupful of strong, thick black coffee for them both, a tactic designed to hide the emotion on his face. Gareck El-Fanil was elfin to the core, and unlike a lot of fae, the elfin did not display their feelings readily in public.

Nonetheless, his words were sincere, his dismay at the imminent departure of his daughter and himself away from his friends was genuine. He sighed. It was damned funny how life went! When the Council has asked him to journey to the Goblin Kingdom to get away from imminent danger he had been outraged, seeing the prolonged stay a hindrance to his kingdom.

But, the Council had explained delicately the High King could not afford to implicate itself to favor one region to another by taking sides, nor by giving sanctuary to him and his daughter—or at least not officially, it couldn't! It was a matter of diplomacy. Surely, Gareck could see that, and appreciate the peaceful, intelligent, and well-educated Garrin could keep him safe and keep diplomacy between the two regions without involving the High King or council. The Kros elfin fighting over the throne of the elfin kingdom would not dare to try and pressure the Goblin King into anything and wouldn't want his wrath upon them so it was considered a neutral area for Gareck and his daughter to stay.

Gareck had left his kingdom reluctantly, with his daughter, and would again leave the Goblin Kingdom reluctantly to return to the Elvin Kingdom, but first he would have to put his daughter into hiding. It would be doubtful that Garrin or Gareck, or Jareth and Ann would see each other again.

"And I will miss you and your most beautiful daughter, my friend," Garrin said warmly in answer to Gareck's comment. "But I am not for sure it is best that the Council is going to split a daughter from her only parent, and send her into hiding aboveground. She will not remember the underground or her origins. I truly feel for your soon to be loss my friend first your beloved and now both of your's only child. I hope to meet with you again and I will help you or her in anyway possible. I wish you all the best of luck, Gareck, my friend."

It was an hour later that Gareck found Ann seated in a corner of the sun-washed courtyard, her precious doll held firmly between her little knees. She seemed intent on mending a rather gruesome-looking crack that had caved in one side of the pretty, painted face by packing it with an oozy lump of gray clay. She looked up as he approached, and gave him a sweet, sunny smile that made her eyes shine almost golden, in contrast to her dark hair and the smears of clay daubing her rosy cheeks. She got up and ran to her father and hugged him with all her might.

"Hello, there, my dove," he greeted her, forcing himself to smile despite his anxiety for himself and his loving little girl. "How have you been doing this afternoon?"

"I'm very well, and I have missed you bunches," she said demurely accepting the kiss he planted upon her brow. "But my dear Fara is ind'sposed. I'm making her all better, just like a medicine healer. Look!"

"Hmmm. Poor old Fara," Gareck commiserated, taking Ann and her doll into his arms. He settled her comfortably on his knee as he sat upon the rim of one of the fountains, and carefully inspected her repairs. "Mmm. Looks good! I'd say you're doing a fine job of patching her up, my dove."

"It was Verma's idea. Jare says Fara's a hero now, 'cos he hurted her when we were playing battle, see? But he just said that to make me feel better," she said softly with a wisdom beyond her years. "He was sorry he hurted Fara, see?"

"I do believe you're right, Lady Ann! Jare's your friend, and I'm sure he felt very badly that Fara was—er—injured by him in battle," Gareck agreed solemnly, wondering how best to break the news to his little daughter. "But Ann, enough of Fara's injury for now, mmm? I have some news for you—two pieces of news, actually. Can you guess what?" She shook her head, wide-eyed. "Well, the first news is that the council is letting me go back to the kingdom to help with getting this war over.

Ann smiled at the thought of them being able to go back home to their own kingdom, but was a little saddened also.

"Well the council also decided that it might not be the best place for you to go back to. So, they would like me to send you on a type of visit to the aboveground.

"Can you and Jare come too?" she asked hopefully, voicing the question he'd dreaded.

"Well, no, I'm afraid not. You see, Jare and his father will have to stay here and govern over their kingdom, and I will have to see to ours."

A sudden squeezing sensation gripped Ann's little chest. Her lower lip trembled. "You mean, I must go away by myself and leave you and Jare and Uncle Garrin and Verma and everyone?" It was a thought too horrible to contemplate, for she had loved them all for half her lifetime.

"Well, yes, I'm afraid so. But it is for the best for everyone."

"But I don't want to go aboveground. I don't know anyone and I will miss everyone!" Ann cried, her eyes filling with tears. "I don't want to leave You and Jare an' Ashtar an' everyone! Why do I have to go, father, why, why?" she pleaded.

"Because it is for the best and you will be safe away from danger. I will be able to protect our kingdom better knowing you are safe from harm, and hopefully the war will end soon and you can come home back to me." Her father explained gently. "Come dry your eyes, my dove, and try very hard to be a grown up, and not be so emotional. You will make me worry about you being unhappy, won't you?

She jumped down from his lap, her tear-streaked face suddenly shining with a solution. "I know, father! You can go back to the kingdom and I can stay here with Jare and Uncle Garrin."

"I'm sorry, my dove, but the council has stated for me to do this," her father said with regret. "Do you know whose help I need the most with this?"

"Uh-huh?" She shook her head, making her dark hair sway engagingly.

"Yours! I need your help the most," her father said pleadingly "I want you to promise me that you will be happy no matter what happens, my dove."

"Is a pr'mise like when Jare says I must swear on the Goblin throne?" she demanded gravely.

"Why, something like that, yes!" her father agreed, hiding a smile.

"Then I swear on the Goblin throne that I will try to be happy no matter what happens", she said sternly.

"Good enough!" Gareck declared, standing up and taking her sticky little hand in his. "Now, let's go and see Uncle Garrin and say our goodbyes.

"Okay, now come along Fara, my dear, don't dawdle so!" the little girl told her doll, now tucked in the crook of her arm.

Hand in hand, she and her father left the sunlit courtyard, oblivious of the burning mismatched eyes—bright with unmanly tears—that watched their departure through a latticed window.

"You will come back, my little friend!" Jare muttered fiercely under his breath. "I, Jareth El-Aistrian, heir to the Goblin throne, swear that you will!"

Jareth had returned to the courtyard out of guilt, intending to offer his crushed little friend the treat he's promised before their quarrel, a ride on Ashtar, his colt, only to overhear the disturbing conversation between Ann and her father, Garreck. His anger at her was spent now, replaced by a sense of imminent loss.

If it is fate that we should be parted, then so be it," he muttered. "But someday, when you are grown, you will return to me, my little friend. Our destiny is written in the stars!"

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**_Enchantress of Dreams: Hope you enjoyed the prologue to this story the other story i am writing Hearts vision will still continue as will this one. Thanx to my readers..._**


	2. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that pertains to the labyrinth or its characters._**

**Chapter 1**

_Williams' House, Aboveground, 1901_

"_Come to me, my love! You are a jewel among women, fairer, and more beautiful than all the women here, come to me!"_

That deep hypnotic voice, that commanding voice, its timbre the rough-smoothness of raw silk—oh, how that voice drew her! She dearly wanted to answer its summons, but dare not.

"_My lord, I cannot"_ she implored the voice. _"I dare not…. Please don't ask it of me!"_

Ann stirred restlessly, mumbling in fitful sleep as the dream took over once again: the same deliciously disturbing dream she has had so many times since she could remember. He long lashes fluttered against her cheek. She flung out one pale, slender arm and sighed deeply, thrusting the crisp bed sheet and a forgotten book aside as the now familiar images unraveled through her mind.

Pale sands—a gleaming ocean frozen into endless waves—billowed beyond and about an oasis in the silvery moonlight. Atop a nearby hill was a magnificent steed. The ebony stallion seemed sculpted from the night itself, while his rider cut an equally commanding figure, cloaked in silhouette-black against an indigo sky spangled with blazing stars.

"_My lord!"_ she whispered, and her heartbeat quickened.

The rider was as still and silent as the night around him. Only the long dark cloth that wiped in the wind around his shoulders and back made a sound. His face was shadowed except for the mismatched eyes that seemed to gleam in the moonlight. The same breeze blowing his cape, made his long unruly hair blow about his hidden face. The night making his hair look dark—but Ann knew—Oh, how well she knew!—that his hair was fair and bright as the sun, the silky, glossy texture of those long strands of hair beneath her fingertips; the smoldering ardor of mismatched eyes aflame with desire as he came slowly riding across the shifting sands towards her….

Somewhere within the house, a door slammed. She jerked awake, and her heart skipped a beat. Her eyes flew open. She stared upwards, neither a breeze nor a blazing star shining down from an indigo sky, but at the whiteness of her bedroom ceiling in the moonlight that streamed through the window.

The sound had been as loud and angry as a gunshot in the quiet house, and its violence and her subconscious straining for it all night long, even in the depths of sleep, had wakened her, she realized drowsily. Toby had a bad habit of slamming doors that she'd been unable to break him of.

She drew a shaky breath and tried to calm the frantic galloping of her heart, taking deep, calming breaths, the throbbing grew more even and controlled. The remnants of the dream receded as reality intruded. She let it go without fighting to recall each vivid detail. The dream would return, as it always did, if not this night, then the next. It had done so since childhood! But the door—well, that was another matter! She'd heard it slam! That could only mean one thing, at this ungodly hour: Toby had come home at last, and she could finally confront him with the terrible accusations William Merchant had made against him.

She threw aside the tangled sheets and padded across the room in search of her dressing gown, outwardly composed, inwardly seething with mixed emotions. Hurriedly, tying the sash about her waist, she smoothed her waist-length, sleep tousled dark-almost midnight hair with a hint of red away from her shoulder and started downstairs, moving blindly through the dark house with ease.

A single gas lamp lit the study against her younger brother's return. Pausing by the opened door, Ann saw him standing there, rocking a little on his heels. In one hand he held a glass and in the other a decanter filled with whiskey, which he was sloshing into it. His fair hair was unruly. His collar and tie was untidy and loosened. He tossed down a gulp or two before he noticed Ann standing in the doorway and turned unsteadily to face her. Judging by his appearance, he'd been drinking heavily long before arriving at home, she realized with a deep since of foreboding. Not again, please God not again! She prayed silently, and wished that she were less cowardly, more like the heroines of the novels she devoured. They'd never yearn to escape the realities and responsibilities of life. They'd meet them head-on, and fierceness she could only dream of…

"Well, well, sister dear! Having trouble sleeping were you?" he jeered, his handsome face twisted into an unpleasant sneer as he saw her standing there.

"Never mind that! Where were you Toby?" Ann stated, taking a hesitant step or two into the room. "You have been gone for a couple of day now. I was afraid you'd—

"What? Done mischief to myself?" he retorted, his upper lip curling in contempt. "Don't make me laugh! The only thing you're afraid of is the chance of my being in trouble, and tarnishing the fine old Williams name. Isn't that right, Ann?"

In the amber light, which spilled from the glassy lamp, Toby saw the color drain from his sister's coral mouth. Simultaneously, two spots of crimson rose in her cheeks. Ha! Good for her, that beautiful, harping bitch. If she hadn't been riled before, she was thoroughly so now, he experienced a glow of satisfaction at seeing the Ice Queen so shaken from her customary cool and calm demeanor. Who did she think she was anyway?

"I suppose you're right, to some extent," Ann admitted very softly, and he knew by the, slight tremor in her voice the enormous self-control it took to refrain from screaming at him. She had a temper which she controls with varying degrees of success on such occasions. "I was worried that you might be in trouble. And with good reason, don't you think? After all, I'm still your legal guardian until next year, and it wouldn't be the first time you disgraced us, would it?"

She paused to make her point sink home, but Toby's expression remained unchanged.

"Oh, get on with it!" he urged, irritated. "Let's have your sermon and be done with it! I don't have all night to listen to your nonsense!

"Very well, William Merchant was here yesterday! He made some very serious accusations against you, Toby. In fact, he sworn out a warrant for your arrest!

"Good God! On what charge?"

"That you attached his wife!" she whispered. "I—I was so afraid the police had already apprehended you when you didn't come home…"

With her shocking announcement, the evil grin Toby wore disappeared, as if the grin were chalk wiped from a slate by a damp rag. Oh, Christ, here it was again, he could tell! She'd bring it all up again, all that messy business with the little slut of a parlor maid. In her mind, Ann obviously believed Merchant's accusations because of Toby's lurid past exploits, and had him tried, found guilty, and hanged, he could tell it by her expression. That blasted old fool Merchant and his trumped-up charges—!

Nausea filled him despite his scorn. With her shocking disclosure, his bloody skull had started to ache abominably again, and he felt the beginning of another of his migraines that had pained him since he was a child. The headaches were becoming more frequent now, and even the bloody liquor couldn't dull the pain anymore. Neither could opiates, through God knows, he'd tried them all. Unfortunately, he's grown immune to the effects of laudanum long since.

The pain increased, as if hammers were in his skull pounding away. Bright lights flashed behind his eyes and cold sweat beaded his brow. Oh Christ, he'd had enough, more than enough! Just because Ann controlled the Williams money didn't mean she could run his life forever, damn her….

"And so you believed him, of course, hook line and sinker?" he responded at length. "Damn you, Ann! Must I go on paying for my mistake for the rest of my life?" he gritted through clenched teeth. "Having you doubt me at every turn, listening to you accuse me, hearing you take others words against mine, because of that one mistake? Haven't you ever heard of forgive and forget, oh sister, of mine?"

"Forgive, perhaps, but forget--?" A sigh escaped Ann. "I only wish I could! I've tried, but I can't forget it, Toby! When one's own brother does something so—so despicable as what you did to that poor girl two years ago, it can never be completely forgotten like just a little 'mistake,' as you call it! Now, what about Merchant's wife—and please, don't try to ignore the issue this time," she warned him, trying to sound in control and calmer than she felt. "He told me he caught you red-handed with his wife. That you hurt her, and—and—that you—!" She couldn't bring herself to say it. It was to distasteful a word for her to say aloud.

Toby scowled moodily at her like a truculent schoolboy. "Raped her? What? Can't you say it, my dear? Oh, damn Merchant to hell! If the old goat can't please his young bride, then that's his problem. Whatever he told you, it certainly wasn't rape!" he growled. "So forget all about his pathetic, empty little threats and go back to bed. And Ann—when I want your interference in my affairs in the future, I'll ask for it."

He turned back to his drink and poured himself another one. As he did so the lamplight illumined his face. Two vivid scratches scored his cheek from eye to jaw, she saw, and there were tiny beads of dried blood clinging to the scratches. An angry red ring encircled his throat where his necklace laid that she had given him for his sixteenth birthday, some years ago. It looked as though someone wound their hand in the chain and squeezed tightly desperately. A sick feeling stirred in the pit of her belly. A throbbing began in her temple.

"Your face!" she blurted out, feeling suddenly short of breath, for it was like a nightmare relieved to see those marks upon him again. "If Merchant's lying, then what—what on earth happened to you?"

On reflex, Toby reached up to finger the scratches. "These?" He laughed. "Ah, yes, I'd almost forgotten!" Well, let's see. How can I word it for your delicate ears, sister dear?" He paused. "Shall we say that I tangled with a moody cat? A amoral little she-cat named Maria Merchant! She started off purring in my arms, and then tired to scratch me to pieces when her husband walked in on us!" He cocked a rakish eyebrow at Ann's shocked expression. "Oh, my! Does such plain talk offend your prim sensibilities, my dear? Do forgive me. But in all honesty—that is exactly what happened. Dear old William surprised me royally 'while incognito' with his lovely little wife in his own bed, and the impotent old bastard—"

"Stop it!" she cried, covering her ears with her hands. "I won't be put off by your—your coarseness, not this time Toby. I insist you tell me what happened to your face! The truth."

"I told you the truth. If you don't like it, then mind your own damn business, Ann! My head is aching and I am tired so I am going up to bed. You can stand there all night long for all I care. Goodnight, sister."

"I am warning you, Toby," Ann threatened unsteadily as he drew level with her, though she was half-afraid of the evil glitter in her brother's blue eyes. "You won't be able to wiggle you way out of this scrape. Merchant is very serious and the police are out there now looking for you! When they find you, you'll be arrested, jailed and forced to stand trial. I got you out of the last episode, but I will not be able to get you out of this one. Merchant is a wealthy man, and he is out for blood. He could have you hanged!

Her dramatic outburst crackled on what seemed and endless silence before either of them spoke again.

"My God, you're serious aren't you?" he said softly, meeting her frightened golden brown eyes with his own blue ones.

"Very, I'm afraid." She gave a soft sigh of despair.

"Good God!" Toby exclaimed with mixed feelings. "The man's a bloody fool! He can't truly believe I raped his wife, for crying out loud?"

"On the contrary, it seems he does."

"But—it's a bloody lie! Maria and I well, we've been having an affair for awhile now. She invited me to a dinner party at their home last night. All the other guest were playing billiards or gossiping after dinner, and she was bored to death. She's much younger than her husband and his friends' wives, you see?" Stiffly, Ann nodded. Maria invited me up and one thing lead to another and her husband came into the room and caught us together in their bed.

"I'm sorry, but that pat little explanation won't do, Toby, not this time! Merchant said that his wife had—bruises and that her clothing was torn! Does that sound like two people enjoying a passionate, romantic tryst?"

"Oh, I don't doubt for a minute that she had a bruise or two," he said levelly and with no apparent surprise. "The lovely Maria is a beautiful—man-eating tigress! Oh Lord, don't look at me that way, Ann! The real world is more sordid than some romantic fairytale that you read in those novels of yours. Some women enjoy pain while having pleasure at the same time. How can you be so much more innocent when you are a good 8 years older than I am."

"Toby, I—really want to believe you, I truly do but I—." Her voice broke off lamely. Her eyes slid away from his.

"But you can't?" he snarled, finishing her sentence.

"Merchant was very convincing, Toby, very!" she cried, half-pleading, half-defiant. "And besides, that other time with Sue—those scratches on your cheek then! Toby, I'm only human! What am I suppose to believe.

"That other time,' 'that other time'—that's all I've heard since it happened! I was little more than a by myself then, and that chit was a cheap little trollop who was more than eager—despite what her coarse lout of a father might have said to the contrary—to squeeze more money out of you! Christ! I'm a wanted man! I could spend years in prison for something I didn't do! I swear to you on our mother's grave, I'm innocent! Tell me you believe me, at least. Tell me you don't believe me guilty of raping another man's wife—of forcing myself on a woman.

He eyes can to rest on the vivid welt encircling his neck, then were drawn back to the deep, bloody scratches uncomfortably away. She swallowed, trembling all over, her mouth working soundlessly like a gasping fish. She wanted to reassure him—to say something—but couldn't bring herself to speak at all.

Toby gave a short, harsh laugh. "Well, I suppose your silence says it all, doesn't it. Thanks for the vote of confidence, sister of mine! That's all I needed to know." He started through the door.

"Toby, wait! If what you say is true then, we have to talk, decide what to do. You can't walk out like this!" she cried after him, suddenly finding her tongue. "You can't run!" she whispered again. "It'll only make matters worse."

No. He couldn't turn his back on what happened and pretend that it didn't happen; couldn't duck his responsibilities as he had before. They needed to talk about this. And besides, before she'd died their mama had asked her to take care of poor, troubled Toby, her incorrigible, violent-tempered younger brother. She loved him, though he was often a difficult person to love, and harder still to like. It was her duty as his guardian to try to sort this mess out and stand beside him, to the bitter end, if need be, whatever scandal or shame it brought upon their family name.

At the foot of the stairs in the paneled entryway, he turned and looked back at her over this shoulder, his fingers already closing over the front doorknob. His expression was pained.

"Can't I?" he asked mockingly, rubbing his temples. "Just watch me! And if the police come and ask about me, do me one last favor: tell them I've left Williams House for good and that you don't know where I have gone. And don't worry about lying to them, my dear sister! Once I walk out of here, it'll be the truth.

The anger that had been building inside her burst free at last.

"Go then, confound you Toby! Go, if you're too bloody cowardly to stay and face the consequences of your actions like a man! Perhaps it'll be for the best. I'm tired of making excuses for your wild behavior, for your dinking and gambling, and having to bail you out of one scrape after another! Go! If you must—and don't come back.

He slammed the door for a second time that night as he stormed out, leaving her with tears of frustration and anguish at her outburst shining in her golden eyes.

When, after fitful exhausted sleep, she awakened the next morning to a perfect spring day, she found his bed had not been slept in. As he threatened—and she'd screamed at him to do—Toby was gone.

Over a year and a half would pass without word form him. Almost two years would come and go before she learned the terrible error in judgment she'd made that night. Everything Toby had told her was the truth….

* * *

**_Enchantress of Dreams: Just to let you know. This story is a stand alone story it doesn't follow the storyline of the movie. Sorry if that disappoints but i just like this idea. Again Thanx to my readers._**


	3. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the labyrinth or any characters from it. This story is from a story i read about 16 years ago but i am placing character from the labyrinth and i am changing the content to match so i hope you like the twist and enjoy this story.**_

Chapter two

_Algiers, Northwest Africa, 1903_

Algiers, the teeming Capital of Algeria that overlooked the vivid waters of the bay, promised to be exotic beyond even Ann's wildest imaginings, Ann thought as she tentatively made her way down the precarious wooden gangplank of the L' Aventure, the grubby little French vessel that had brought her safely through the straits of Gibraltar and across the sparkling Mediterranean on the first leg of her search for missing brother.

Tom her lawyer cousin, had discovered a clue to her brother's disappearance from some of the more unsavory members of his clientele: the gaming-house proprietors to whom Toby had been indebted for several thousand pounds. Toby Williams' gambling debts had been left unpaid when he fled the authorities and the country. His donors' considerable interest in finding him had resulted in their uncovering his trail as far as Paris. There, Ann had been astounded to learn they'd discovered that Ann had enlisted in the French Foreign Legion to put himself beyond the long arm of the law and themselves!

No sooner had Tom told her this than Ann had pensioned off old Sally, the cook, given notice to the maid, closed up William Hall, left the keys and her business affairs in Tom's capable hands and sold the double rope of matched pearls her adopted mother had bequeathed her to a reputable jeweler in the City. She'd decided to use the proceeds from their sale to finance her search for Toby's whereabouts; for she was determined to find him and somehow right the enormous wrong she'd done him.

France being the obvious starting point for her quest, she'd traveled by ferry and then by train to the city of Paris, where=by means of flirtatious glances, tearful cajoling, and several hefty bribes-she'd at last uncovered the knowledge she sought.

Toby, a recruiting officer had reluctantly informed her, had indeed joined the Legion Etrangere the year pervious. From there he had been dispatched to the Foreign Legion head-quarters of Sidi-bel-Abbes, Northwest Africa, from which he had doubtless been assigned to some desert outpost by now.

Was he certain the young man he remembered had been her brother? She'd asked the recruiting officer anxiously. Surely with so many young men enlisted each week, he could have been mistaken. The recruiting officer had bristled at such an idea. He, a soldier of thirty-five years' honorable service to one with such an unusual first name who had also been British and who had worn about his neck a medallion of St. Christopher, an unusual trinket for an Englishman to wear? Mon Dieu, was it likely he would have forgotten? Ann had agreed that it was not. The man's description of the silvery rope chain and the medal she herself had bought as a gift for Toby was the final proof she needed that she was headed in the right direction.

At last she'd though optimistically, she had a place to begin her search? And there was an excellent chance she'd be able to find her brother. Once she'd done so, she'd try her utmost to make amends to him. Toby well unlike her, Toby had always been of an unforgiving nature, and jealous of Ann's position as the oldest and her also being an adopted daughter to their parents. She had allowed his past behavior to cloud her judgment of the incident, and in the process had badly let her brother down when he'd needed her support most. But even so, she discovered just a few weeks ago that she'd misjudged him, and that he'd been telling her the truth about his affair with Charles Marchant's wife, she had to try. She knew she couldn't live with her guilt if she didn't find him and ask forgiveness!

The moment she disembarked, there were white-robed natives everywhere about her, clamoring in strident tones for the ma,mselle to hire their services as porters or guides, or to see to her luggage safely transported aboard the man's weathered gharry, an Indian-style canopied open carriage drawn by a scrawny mule. She opened her lacy parasol with a practiced twirl and leaned comfortably back against the brown leather seat to enjoy her first views of Algiers' New Quarter as they drove to what Muhammad, her driver, described as a predominantly British hotel, the Grand Empress, which was just a few streets distant from the government buildings of the French, of whose North African Republic Algiers was a part.

She glimpsed amongst the kaleidoscopic variety of faces the hawk-featured faces of fair-skinned Berbers, fierce nomadic tribesmen whose home was the forbidding and little-known Sahara to the south, and also the swarthy Bedouins, who herded their flocks of sheep and goats from desert oasis to desert oasis all winter long, and who returned to their palatial homes in the white-walled oasis cities only for the blistering months of summer.

It was here-not in the New Quarter, but in the teaming bazaars of the mysterious, fabled Casbah-That Ann found herself two days after her arrival, to both her secret delight and her dismay.

After being curtly told that she was wasting her time at the Legion by her brother's commanding officer she was not about to do as they say and leave. Ann was able to talk to one of the other officers and had found out that her brother was stationed to a remote outpost in the desert. Ann, not even giving a thought to giving up, decided that after returning to her hotel she would venture out into Casbah in hopes of finding a guide for her journey to the outpost of Fort Valeureux.

As Muhammad as her driver, Ann was able to stumble upon a young boy whose father was on a pilgrimage to Mecca and the caravan would be departing within two days from now and would assist her on her way to the outpost of she would like. Ann seeing this as a god sent message for her to take the opportunity decided to meet and talk with the boy's father.

Ann flushed with triumph and glowing with anticipation of the great adventure about to unfold before her -had hired herself a guide! Her rendezvous with destiny was about to begin, she sensed. Whatever lay ahead from here on would be solely the results of her own actions, combined with the kismet, or fate, that ruled all men. A tingle of excitement rippled through her as she tumbled wearily into her bed at the hotel that night. Tomorrow, she would make the train journey south to Sidi-bel-Abbes, and there meet up with Cemal, her guide, and his son, Nabal, one more, and join the pilgrims' caravan.

The sands of the Sahara awaited her-and the magical promise of a desert dream.

**_Enchantress of Dreams: Hope you enjoyed this Chapter to the story. I know it is slow going but have to have a background :) the other story i am writing Hearts vision will still continue as will this one. Thanx to my readers... sorry for such long time between updates will try to update more but life tends to get in the way._**


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